A Man of His Word
by SirMandokarla
Summary: SWTOR: The Legacy. Lord Xel'zex is capricious, arrogant, ruthless, and vain. The best thing that can be said about him is that one always knows where they stand with him.
1. Chapter 1

10 ASC

Xel'zex sneered and deactivated his lightsaber, then turned to leave. As the red glow faded from the cave walls, he lamented the waste of time. He'd expected more from this group of so-called "survivors".

He stopped when he realized something. Turning again, he saw his little slave staring down at the still-steaming bodies of the Sons of Palawa.

 _Ah, yes,_ he thought. _Surely she is just as disappointed. Perhaps she –_

"You didn't have to do that," Vette said quietly.

Xel'zex's golden eyes widened. Shock turned swiftly to rage. His frustration at the planet's maddening heat and unchallenging foes boiled over, and he stepped towards Vette, delivering a backhand that sent the little Twi'lek sprawling to the ground atop his newly slain enemies.

"You will not question when I choose to destroy my enemies!" The Sith's roar echoed throughout the cave, proving beyond a doubt he had left not a soul alive.

Vette slowly picked herself up off of the corpses, and Xel'zex was sure he heard a sniffle as he glared down at the girl. He growled as the pain in his chest, one he'd begun to feel at unpredictable moments, stabbed at him yet again. He wanted badly to continue lashing out at something, at ANYTHING. But everyone in the cave was already dead, and he would need Vette again soon, as he always did.

Not that he really needed anyone. She simply amused him, when she wasn't being so infuriatingly –

Xel'zex actually gasped at the twinge that struck him in that moment. The pain seemed to intensify with every mission.

Grimacing, he started for the cave entrance, leaving his slave to keep up as she would.

They walked in silence until the entrance to the cave, when Xel'zex muttered, still loud enough to be heard across a room, "their feud had to be ended now. Every minute in the territory of an enemy is more dangerous than an hour in open combat."

Not that he was explaining himself to the alien. He simply liked to marvel at his own strategic brilliance once in a while.

Later, Xel'zex chose to negotiate with the Jawas over the verbobrain he needed rather than kill them all. Killing them wouldn't have been an interesting challenge, anway.


	2. Chapter 2

10 ATC

He arrives with Vette beside him, as she always is, as he always will. It is something constant about him, even if he doesn't yet know why.

They make an interesting pair. Artistic, even. He is large, powerful, and red as blood in the sand. Golden filigree weaves through the skin around his eyes and down his nose, even around his mouth in the shape of fangs. In contrast, Vette is a pale blue, small and deceptively frail-looking. Her only ornamentation is a simple headband.

I wonder if, perhaps, she makes a better pair to him than even I. It would be an ironic truth.

I wait for them, a little impatient. His influence, no doubt.

He kneels at our pool and meditates, just as his mission requires. No more and no less than he has been commanded. The padawan he hunts has not slighted him. That leaves him with no motive to hunt her down. A simple and worthless outlook.

I understand better than he does, but only because he refuses to think. His master's plans are being torn apart, a life's work collapsing around Darth Baras. The man would be angry even without the Dark Side's teachings. If he, the one who summons me, cared, he would be a far more fearsome predator for the padawan.

I appear quickly. What I have to say will anger him, but there's no need to be rude.

My form coalescees and he starts as our golden eyes meet. As usual, he never bothered to consider the details. Details like how I would appear to him.

"Xel'zex," I greet him in his voice, "you have come a long way to see me. It is good to meet you."

His face twists into a smirk, the golden filigree making it seem like a fanged beast. Those same fangs on my face glint in the pool's waters. He leans back, admiring me as if looking in a mirror. In a way, he is. "Of course it is," he gloats.

"Which is why it is so disappointing to see how little progress you've really made," I sigh.

As expected, his eyes flash and he bares his teeth, growling, "how dare you?"

"A Sith's power comes from his emotions," I explain, ignoring his outburst, "a Jedi's, from his convictions. Yours are weak. I am what you could be, if you embraced your true potential."

Vette flinches as he roars, drawing his lightsaber. I regret that. He scares her far more than either of us would ike, and he is too self-centered to even realize. She hides it well, too, knowing her fear would make him angry.

"You dare call me weak?!"

For my part, I ignore the brute's outburst. He is volatile, but not stupid. He knows he needs me and, in spite of what I'm saying, he still likes talking about himself.

"Your emotions are mercurial, and you lack the proper lens to focus them into true strength."

"And you talk in riddles when you should be giving me answers," he rages.

I can sympathize with that. We both prefer to be direct. On the other hand, I'm perceptive enough to know the direct approach will just piss him off. Then we'll get nowhere.

"You have what you want already," I tell him. "You've been taught to desire power, but you have no ambition."

"I want freedom from Baras," he protests.

"Only in an idle way," I say. "You expect your freedom in due time, and have enough to be satisfied with now. This is not enough."

He sneers. "What do you suggest, then?"

Perfect.

"Look to others. There are lives being lived around you that you fail to appreciate. The padawan you hunt for is an innocent pawn in this war. She loves the hermit you plan to kill. That love gives her an enduring power greater than the pain and hate you will inspire by killing her."

"You want me to leave the hermit alive so that my prey will be stronger?" He actually seems to consider it. "I suppose that could make killing her more interesting."

I shake my head. "I want you to learn from that example. A Jedi is more powerful when he defends another. A Sith who cares for those beyond himself finds motivation more easily than you. Your selfishness limits you."

He waves back towards Vette and gives a bark of derisive laughter. "You expect me to put my slave's needs above mine? However you may appear, you must be mad."

I am not. There is good reason he thinks first of Vette, even though I spoke only of the padawan.

"I urge you to think about it. With the right motivation, you have the potential to become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

"And this is your motivation," he concludes. "You fight for others instead of your own desires?"

Ah. He makes a common mistake.

I shake my head. "I would fight for myself as much as others. I share in their desires and desire things for them."

I see the exact moment he makes his decsion.

Our lightsabers meet, and he growls, flashing those golden fangs. Naturally, I do the same.

I watch Vette during the fight. She is scared, but hides it. She doesn't understand what I am, and she is afraid of the decision she thinks her companion has made.

My power is that of the oasis I inhabit, a semblance of the Force that once flowed through this entire planet. It allows me many abilities and prodigious strength. It is nothing compared to his. He strikes with a power I only match by taking his form. His natural strength in the Force already makes him powerful enough to kill Sith Lords; what he will become as he grows in experience and skill is almost unfathomable. It is the greatest reason I have to ensure he becomes who he should be.

I am not worried. I have fought those like him before. I have turned Jedi to the Dark Side and Sith away from it. I have taught rebellion to a Rattattaki Night-sister, impulsivity to a Mirialan sage, and forgiveness to a Sith Emperor. Each time, my motivations have changed, and each time, they have been strong enough.

Today, each time he knocks me down and thinks he has broken me, I look to his companion. Then I stand up again. Every time.

Vette watches me, just as I watch her. She is perceptive. She knows exactly why I look to her, even if she doesn't truly understand my nature.

So after I stand up for what feels like the hundredth time, just before I strike a fatal blow on my counterpart, she shoots me.

I go down like a corporeal being near a black hole.

I laugh. "An excellent shot, as always, Vette."

She flinches and mutters, "Right. Getting a compliment from that face is kinda creepy."

"You would have made a wonderful reflection, Vette," I say, accidentally flickering into her form. "You could be so much more vicious, if you tried."

He growls unconsciously, but I return to his form before he can react. He glares down at me, his eyes a fiery gold beside the cold metal that surrounds them.

"You have won, then," I admit begrudgingly. "Proven that your way is the stronger."

He does not believe it any more than I do. Unlike him, though, I will lie to get my way.

I stand one last time. Then I begin to fade, much of my self returning to the oasis.

"Claim your reward, then."

He reaches out a hand and a part of me joins him, becoming a part of him that he will use as he sees fit.

His eyes glow briefly with my power as he glimpses some small part of my knowledge. Then he turns and leaves, loyal companion at his shoulder.

I failed to prove my strength. Had his reflection been strong enough, a greater portion of myself would have joined him, and he would have been changed forever.

No matter. I do not make the same mistaken assumption of so many of my visitors. They think I am their opposite, pulling them towards that which they most fear or deny. That is not what a reflection is.

I cannot reflect that which does not already exist.


	3. Chapter 3

11 ATC

The Jedi girl didn't even flinch when Xel landed the killing blow.

Except, well, he didn't. Land the killing blow, that is. He just held the lightsaber there, lighting up Jaesa Wilsaam's face a grim sort of pink. Her hair was more of a muddy brown, which seemed to be what happened when black hair and red blood mixed. Ew.

Xel was smiling. He gave the Jedi that teeth-baring smirk he only used when he really felt triumphant. That was usually a good sign.

Then Xel deactivated his lightsaber and stepped back.

Jaesa stared at him, breathing hard as she wiped at the blood pouring from a broken nose. She gasped in pain, which Vette figured served her right. How much common sense did it take not to mess with a broken nose?

"I don't understand," the jedi said, "you had the chance to kill me and… you held back. Why?"

Xel reached out a hand and Jaesa's lightsaber flew into his hand. He turned it over in his hands long enough that Vette almost told him to get on with it. She opted for the better part of valour and kept guarding the Jedi Master they'd captured, instead.

"Held back," Xel mused, spinning the lightsaber idly, "yes, I suppose I did. You've been amusing, you see. Much like Vette here."

Vette rolled her eyes. "That's his version of a compliment," she explained.

Xel pocketed both lightsabers. Then he spread his arms, making himself look like a really big, red rancor. Better looking, obviously, but seriously huge.

"Alright, then," he said. "Go ahead."

Everybody in the room stared at him, including the Jedi Master, Noman Karr.

"What?"

"Read me," explained the Sith, smirking down at Jaesa, "just as you were going to do before I attacked."

Vette almost smacked herself in the face with her blaster, her facepalm was so instinctive.

Xel was grandstanding. Of course he was! The fancypants Sith never let an opportunity to show off slip by.

The padawan Jaesa clearly didn't understand that just yet, because she was reduced to a sputtering mess. "B-but why? Why now?"

Xel'zex's arms dropped, as did his smile, as he rapidly approached the limits of his minimal patience. Sighing, he tried something Vette had been teaching him lately. Not that a mere Twi'lek like Vette could get away with actually teaching Lord Xel'zex anything. One had to be sneaky about such things.

Nonetheless, Xel tried explaining himself.

"You have your ways of discerning true natures," he said slowly, as if speaking to an exceptionally dim child, "this is mine. Many people, I have found, only show themselves when they are at the instant of their deaths. Your master here is a perfect example."

"You shut your mouth, Sith," Noman Karr bellowed.

Vette quickly clocked the jedi upside the head with one of her pistols. Xel'zex flashed her a smile, then turned back to Jaesa. Behind his back, Vette gave an inaudible sigh of relief.

Stupid jedi. He was just lucky Xel was in such a good mood.

"Thank you, Vette," Xel'zex said. "The foolish jedi is lucky I'm in a good mood."

Vette's sarcastic, "no kidding," was as loud as it could be without ever being spoken.

"As I was saying," the Sith explained, ignoring the concerned look Jaesa gave her master, "you are clearly different. You hide nothing. You are no jedi."

"What are-"

"Shut up!" There it was. Xel had been doing so well, too. Poor Jaesa. Still, if she was so good at reading people, she should have realized Xel was going to kill her if she talked back.

"You are obviously no Sith, either."

Wait, what?

Vette stared at Xel'zex. Yep, he was glaring, alright, but his lightsaber was still on his belt and the menace in his loom was at a 6/10, at most. He even had a bit of that superior look in his eyes, so he was holding onto his good mood.

"You have the passion," Xel continued, shaking a fist for emphasis, "but no drive to dominate. You don't repress your anger, but you don't use it, either. Therefore, I have made a decision. You will use your power on me, and I will allow you a choice."

He grinned like a man who'd just sat his son down to open his first Life Day gift. Proud – of himself, obviously – and magnanimous.

Hesitantly, probably wary of being yelled at, the Jedi girl asked, "what choice?"

"Your future," Xel said. "You will know everything there is to know about the Jedi and the Sith, then you will choose exactly what you desire."

Vette shook her head and mouthed the same question Jaesa asked.

"Why?"

Xel leaned forward, leering at the wounded girl. "Because it amuses me."

Vette rolled her eyes.

Hesitantly, the girl stood up straight, clasping her hands in meditation.

"A- alright," she stuttered. Then she started glowing blue, a few shades lighter than Vette's skin. The colour bloomed and didn't seem to do much, but it must have worked, because the padawan started talking. "I see… overwhelming greed. Pride. And capriciousness. You've harmed so many without any regret or shame. There's so much darkness."

The kid actually shuddered at whatever she was seeing.

She wasn't being exactly fair, though. Sure, Xel was a jerk, but he was an honest one. A trusting one, even. And it wasn't like he never helped anyone… just not often. Or if it inconvenienced him. Or if he was in a bad mood.

Wow, Xel really was kind of a jerk.

And he was eating it up. Of course he was, the Sith loved hearing about himself. It was easily his favourite subject.

Then Jaesa threw them a curveball. "There's something else… it's pride and greed, but it's… misplaced?"

Jaesa's head snapped up, and suddenly she was looking right into Vette's eyes.

"It's so twisted but… he cares for you."

Everyone else in the room erupted into protests.

"We're not friends," Vette defended.

She was drowned out by Noman Karr roaring, "he is a Sith!" As if that were a sensible objection. Xel said something Vette didn't quite catch about a slave, which was typical.

Their protests died in the ringing of the jedi girl's laughter. Even Xel'zex must have been pretty surprised, because he didn't immediately kill the person laughing at him.

"It's amazing," Jaesa murmured, head down in contemplation. "You wear no mask at all. The only truths that do not show on your face are those you do not know, yourself. But you shouldn't continue to lie to yourself, or a mask as ugly as my master's may form…"

She looked up from her reverie, then leapt back from Xel, who'd stalked up to her as she spoke.

"You will explain exactly what you meant about my caring for Vette, Jaesa Wilsaam." The Sith's words came out in a low, menacing growl that made it perfectly clear what response deception would be met with.

Jaesa paused before answering, which Vette thought was pretty stupid. Xel had visibly run out of patience earlier. Still, even the big oaf was usually smart enough to know he wouldn't get any information from a corpse… unless they angered him.

"I will," Jaesa said firmly, "and in return you will allow me to travel with you and learn from you."

Xel snarled in the small girl's face before abruptly pausing. Then he smiled and roared in laughter, "it seems you are already learning, padawan. Reveal your mysteries, then! We have a deal."


	4. Chapter 4

12 ATC

"Ngh!"

Xel'zex grunted in pain as he pulled the remains of gold leaf from his eye ridges. Holding it before his eyes, he crushed it almost idly. There was not a hint of resistance, and it failed to satisfy his rage even incrementally.

Rage he had held in for the first time in his life.

A Sith Lord had the freedom to express himself in any way he saw fit. It had been a defining feature of Xel'zex's life, as a pure-blooded Sith. Never in his life had he hidden an emotion, put off a desire, or regretted a decision.

Today, he was nothing but regrets.

A trap. He had walked straight into a trap. That much, he could handle. He was a Sith Lord, an unstoppable being of breathtaking power on any battlefield. The explosions had stood no chance of stopping him, though he credited the ruined cave itself as a credible threat.

Even as the pain of the explosions continued to ring in his ears, many hours after his escape, and the pain across his entire back roared for retribution, neither was what made the Sith truly angry.

Xel'zex blinked, and terrified blue eyes flashed in his mind, as fresh as the moment he'd seen them.

She'd lain there, quivering and unable to move underneath him, as the rocks had fallen. She'd been too terrified to even scream, too stunned to realize that he would never let her be hurt. And as the rocks had slammed into him, every one with force enough to crush a normal man many times over, he had held on to the thought that those would not be her last moments, that she would not die afraid and unbelieving that Xel'zex could, or would, save her. Anger at the very thought of her death had kept him alive – and even conscious – to protect her from the imminent danger.

In the present, Xel'zex breathed deeply of the poisons of Quesh, relishing the agony the toxins brought. The same toxins that had almost killed Vette in spite of his efforts.

He should have realized. He's saved her from the explosion and from the cave-in, but she had lain there, trapped underneath him, for hours as their vaccinations against the poisons of the very planet ran their course. When he finally awoke, she was dying.

Perhaps that had been for the best. Without that urgency, Xel'zex was unsure he could have moved the rocks or broken them out of the wreckage. The sound of her weak coughing, the sight of the horrid purple sweat that covered her brow as her body tried to expel Quesh's very atmosphere…

Xel'zex now took a deep breath of that same atmosphere and roared into the sky, causing a wave of destruction to fly from him.

And then he bottled it up again, because he had nobody to blame this time. For once, he took full responsibility for his mistake. He had known Baras was a traitorous wretch, had been warned by Jaesa and Vette both, and yet had not expected, not for a moment suspected that he, Xel'zex, would ever be the target of Darth Baras' treachery.

Therefore, he poisoned himself, far away from Imperial forces, as far away from Vette and their crew as he could think to flee, and felt shame.

"It took you long enough," came the voice of Jaesa Wilsaam behind him.

Xel'zex stood, whirled, and drew his lightsaber all in one smooth motion.

Jaesa watched him with an almost amused expression. More emotions flickered across her face, but they were unreadable, too fleeting and myriad.

"Flee if you value your life, apprentice," Xel'zex warned.

Jaesa shook her head. "You finally admitted to yourself your feelings. I think that's cause for celebration. Yet you sit out here, bottling up those beautiful emotions, fleeing from your comrades because at any moment you might let loose and kill one of them."

She ignited her own lightsaber and raised it.

"Don't you dare don a mask now, my Lord."

Then she charged, and Xel'zex joined her in joyous, enraged, guilty, honest battle.


	5. Chapter 5

12 ASC

Vette's scream echoed in the ship's cargo bay, then she crumpled with a thud to the cold metal floor.

"Baras and I have been planning this for some time," admitted Malavai Quinn, traitor. "You'll have to face this fight alone, my lord."

Lord Xel'zex nearly crushed his lightsaber in a redfisted grip, looking down at Vette's unconscious body. "I see now why Jaesa so despises masks," he growled.

The Sith calmly, slowly, against every instinct he had, picked up Vette's body with the Force, pushing her gently towards the wall.

"You realize," he said, turning slowly back to his once-subordinate, "that I won't just kill you for this, Quinn? I will destroy you. By taking Vette out of the equation, you've knowingly taken my only reason to show mercy. Should you somehow manage to survive my wrath, I shall return you to the ship, where Jaesa will rip every putrid secret from your mind."

It was the uncharacteristically emotionless tone Lord Xel'zex used that sent chills down Quinn's spine.

Then a horrendous screeching, tearing sound filled the room as the walls bent, buckled, and tore to surround Vette's unconscious body.

Quinn gathered his will managed a sneer of contempt. "You're a fool, Lord Xel'zex. Even that musclehead Pierce is a more reliable strategist. Lord Baras has wasted too much time on you already."

The door behind Malavai opened, and two enormous four-legged war droids scuttled through, gun-arms already trained on the pure-blood Sith, red mono-eyes glowing brightly.

"Unlike you," explained the officer, "I know when to stand back, wait,and analyze. These droids have been programmed by me, personally, to counter your every strength and capitalize on your every weakness."

Xel'zex ignited his lightsaber, and Quinn stepped behind the droids.

"Well," the beast of a man muttered. Then he yelled, "let's see how well you think you know me!"

The charge was crushing, blindingly fast, and completely expected.

At least, that's what Quinn thought. The war droids fired on the path Lord Xel'zex would clear in under a second, and pinpoint secondary shields guarded the precise areas the Sith Lord favoured as targets.

Only, the shots met nothing but air. Quinn stepped back a fraction of a second too slowly as he realized the Sith Lord's leap had taken him in the one direction Quinn would never have predicted: up.

The crunch of bone as Xel'zex's leap from the ceiling cracked his spine and slammed him into the ground was the last sound Quinn heard before losing consciousness.

Malavai Quinn woke to a level of pain he'd never imagined. As he opened his mouth to scream, however, his breath was literally caught in his throat.

"Be silent, Quinn," the Emperor's Wrath sneered.

Quinn choked silently, beginning to black out again.

Then he was dropped to the floor, gasping for breath as quietly as he could manage.

"The leg bolts were clever, but reduced the effectiveness of your leap-prediction algorithms."

Casually, Lord Xel'zex stepped on Quinn's back, again cutting off his scream with the Force.

"Silence," he commanded. "Vette is still sleeping."

It was the tone that got to him more than anything. Lord Xel'zex was never calm. He was smug, angry, thrilled, frustrated, passionate, and any other emotion from one moment to the next. Never calm. Rarely quiet, seldom contemplative. Even through the pain of his spine and steady asphyxiation, Malavai Quinn became certain worse was to come.

Again, Quinn gasped for air as his lungs were set free.

"You really thought your droids could kill me, didn't you," the Sith asked rhetorically. He circled Quinn slowly, deep in thought. "You've never even seen me fight without Vette. It really seems you developed ways to prevent me from fighting in any expected way, and then continued to prepare for me to fight in that way."

 _Because you've never changed your fighting style… for any challenge,_ Quinn thought. Then, in spite of his most valiant efforts, he coughed. Blood came up with saliva and too little air but, to his surprise, he was allowed to keep breathing.

He regained his breath, desperately struggling to keep from being reduced to a coughing fit. Xel'zex's pacing brought him before Quinn's eyes again, and the massive Sith squatted down, peering curiously past the golden piercings that decorated his crimson face.

"Well, go on," Lord Xel'zex ordered. He was not a man who requested. "How exactly did you expect such an obviously flawed plan to succeed?"

Quickly, but between shallow breathes, the dying officer wheezed an answer.

"Always… disregarded… opponent's capabilities… before, my Lord."

A flash of that familiar anger in the Sith's eyes as he stood. From the officer's immobile position, face-down on the floor, he heard more than saw the red flash of the lightsaber as it struck.

He gave no reaction because he hadn't felt a thing.

His torturer grunted in dissatisfaction, kicking some portion of Quinn's severed leg away from them.

"You are not my subject, wretch," spat the Sith Lord. "Your pretended subservience does as much to kill you as your stupidity in harming Vette."

Then, horrifyingly, the man calmed himself again.

Quinn lurched, coughed, and was lifted into the air to "stand" upright, facing his executioner. Lord Xel'zex continued to pace, massive frame seeming to fill the room. Abstractly, Quinn noted that he'd always admired that about the Emperor's Wrath.

Abstractly, he realized he was probably running low on blood.

"You frustrate me, Quinn," the Sith admitted in his candid manner, floating his captive beside him as he paced. "I have NEVER found myself at a loss on how to express my anger, and I am quickly running out of time to make that decision."

Faster than Quinn had ever seen him move, the Sith's hand lashed out. Again, Quinn found himself unable to scream as his left eye was crushed in its socket. Try as he might, his screams wouldn't come. Air wouldn't come. The pain –

He blacked out.

It must have been mere seconds later that he regained consciousness. He opened his eye to see Xel'zex discarding a stimulant pack.

"Painkillers," the Wrath muttered. "What a waste. I almost wish I'd taken lessons in this sort of thing from that coward Baras. As if shock was not enough to worry about."

A low growl emanated from the mountain of a man as he swung Quinn around in his continued pacing. The floating man caught a glimpse of Vette as he came around, and Xel'zex stopped at the same sight.

"She'll be awake soon, no doubt," her would-be lover muttered.

Xel'zex paused for a moment, then turned away, moving to pick up Quinn's leg.

"For all your contempt for her," the Wrath lectured as he brought man and limb towards the doors they'd used to enter the ship, "she would never have made such a stupid mistake. The things you calculate and measure, using all your rules and procedures, those things the Empire is so proud of – she understands them implicitly. Odds and tactics and politics, where you cannot afford to let a hint of inspiration or personality through, she matches you and more with nothing but a smile and a wisecrack to chase away her fear."

Lightsaber in one hand, Quinn's leg in the other, and captive still floating alongside, Xel'zex stabbed the durasteel door and waited, still talking.

"If you had attacked me out of hate," the Sith explained, ignoring his work in favour of watching Quinn's last moments, "or envy or rage, if for one moment you had acted on your own feelings instead of playing the servile, efficient worm, I might have let you live."

As the door melted under the saber's heat, Lord Xel'zex pulled his saber away to survey his work.

"It will do," he concluded, grabbing Quinn by the lapels and shoving him into the molten door.

This time, Quinn was allowed to scream.


	6. Chapter 6

12 ASC

Vette couldn't get the stench of burning out of her nose. She tried breathing through her mouth, she tried plugging her nose, holding her breath, taking shallow breaths, and anything else she could think of. None of it helped. And she wasn't sure which was worse; the stinging, sharp smell of burned metal, or the heavy, ugly stench of burned flesh.

The smell was as unsettling as Xel'zex's arms were comforting.

If that wasn't a sentiment Vette had never expected to think.

He'd insisted on carrying her out of the ship after she woke up, and she hadn't had the strength to say no. She'd tried, of course; played the tough card and taken a single step to march out of that room filled with stuff she didn't want to think about, then wobbled and fallen into his arms.

Xel was a safe guy to be around, for her. He'd been protecting her for years, and she'd gotten used to it.

What she hadn't gotten used to was what he'd left in that room.

Xel was a simple guy. It made him easy to please and easy to piss off, but all you had to do was find out how to do what, and he was usually alright. He was also, at heart, a happy sort of guy. That was something most people didn't get. He dealt with problems in the simplest way he knew how, the fastest way, so that he could get back to being happy again.

When she'd come to, it hadn't been to the results of Xel's usual tantrum. What he'd done, with all the blood and the burning and the _parts…_

Now, she looked back over Xel's shoulder at the remains of the door he'd used to -

She closed her eyes and turned away. Maybe she wasn't squeamish, but the idea that Xel would do something like that… it was terrifying. She'd rather just forget it.

Forget it, and the fact that she knew exactly why he'd done it. That she, in some small way, was responsible for what had happened to Lieutenant Quinn.

Xel'zex held her tight as she tried to shut out the thoughts of the sort of monster he could end up being, if anything ever happened to her.

Broonmark was the first to know what had happened on the Imperial ship. When the ship's doors hissed open, he caught the scent barely a second later.

Lightsabers always left a sharp smell, like lightning. Broonmark expected it on the Sith's every return from a hunt. Burned metal wasn't uncommon on the Sith's hunts, either, but it rarely came in such strength. Blood was less normal, except when Broonmark had joined him. The lightsabers and blasters they used tended to burn wounds closed.

The specific blood, however, was the problem.

The little soldier's blood, and none other than his. Not the Sith's, the blue one's, or any other's.

Broonmark concluded that the Sith had killed the little soldier. Then he went back to his practice.

Jaesa and Pierce were playing Sabacc when Xel'zex and Vette returned. Well, playing might be strong wording for what was happening. In any case, the Lieutenant had been merciful enough to forgo betting while he taught the Jedi the ropes.

It would be hard to say who knew something was wrong first. Jaesa sensed Xel'zex's mood immediately, but she might have been distracted by trying to figure out how she'd ended up with a score of -46 when the game's limit was -23. As for Pierce, who was less invested in the game than he might have been against a more competent opponent, his ears picked up on the sound of heavier footfalls than usual, coming from the closing entrance. Just one pair of footsteps, rather than three.

Both stood up, hands on weapons that never left their sides, and cautiously faced the entryway.

They relaxed slightly when Xel'zex came around the corner carrying Vette.

"My lord."

"Lord Xel'zex, what happened?"

"Where's Quinn?"

Xel'zex growled and tilted his head towards the cockpit. Jaesa and Pierce followed him. Once there, Vette crawled out of his arms and, with a little help, sat down in her chair on the right side of the window. Xel'zex sat down heavily in the raised central seat. As for Jaesa and Pierce, the soldier waved her into the last seat and took a spot on the wall beside her.

"The lieutenant betrayed us," Xel'zex said. "He was working for Baras this whole time."

Pierce grunted, but Jaesa swore. "That masked wretch! I'm sorry, Lord Xel'zex. If I'd been more alert, he never-"

"Jaesa," Xel'zex interupted with a glare, "Vette was hurt today. You do not want to claim responsibility for that."

Jaesa shut up.

Pierce glanced at Vette. "She gonna be okay?"

"I'm fine," Vette interrupted with a huff. "I might not going to the dance tonight, but it was just a weird sonic thingy. Xel figured everything out just fine."

"Figured everything out?"

Xel'zex gave Pierce a nod and explained about the robots Quinn had programmed specifically to kill the Sith.

Vette went a pale blue at the reminder, and Pierce was silent during the explanation.

Pierce whistled. "Guess the smug bastard wasn't as smart as he thought. Still, we got a problem. Quinn had a lot of the intel we need for this op. We don't have time to backtrack all his channels or get into his files. We're basically heading in blind. No offense, my lord, but maybe you should have left him alive."

Xel'zex's glare was cut off by Vette's comment, "c'mon, Pierce, you didn't really want him back, did you? Think of it this way: you don't have to listen to him telling you how to pack your bags for the Bastion siege again. We all know he was going to, as soon as he got back."

Pierce grunted appreciatively, though whether it was in agreement or for defusing Xel'zex's ire was anyone's guess.

"Vette can deal with it," Jaesa said.

"What?"

"What?"

Both Pierce and Vette spun to look at Jaesa, who looked no less angry even now. Xel'zex just nodded.

"Vette is skilled at tricking computer programs," Jaesa explained. "She should be able to get into Quinn's files."

"How do you know that?" Vette looked back and forth between Jaesa and Xel'zex. "And you, too? What, did she scan me and tell you every little detail?"

"No," Xel'zex said, unoffended. "I just don't underestimate you, Vette."

Vette sat back, a little stunned.

"I did scan you, though," Jaesa offered.

Vette rolled her eyes.

"Alright, sounds good," Pierce shrugged. "Vette's right, it's not like I'm going to miss the condescending git. Still, he didn't just get our intel. He was our one-man command center. Got the intel, analyzed it, gave us assignments. I'm alright with squad tactics and all, but strategy's above my pay grade, my Lord."

Jaesa stared at Xel'zex. Xel'zex stared back at her. Both Pierce and Vette looked between them.

Eventually, Vette caught on. "Oh..."

Xel'zex shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But don't expect me to like it."

"It's the Sith training, isn't it," Vette guessed.

"In a way. My father came from a long line of military commanders. He may not have served, himself, but I was raised on the theory. Between myself and Lieutenant Pierce, we should be able to come up with solutions to most problems. As for information analysis..."

He looked at Jaesa, who looked back at him.

"I have better things to do," Xel'zex said.

"My expertise is people," Jaesa replied.

"Well," Vette suggested, "what if I helped? I'll be getting the information in the first place, and what's a bit more mindless drudgery between friends?"

Xel'zex sat back, smiling, and nodded.

"That's everything, then," Jaesa shrugged.

"No, it isn't," Pierce interjected. "What happened to his body? He was still an Imperial soldier. He should get a funeral. Baras sure isn't going to give him one."

"Uh," Vette said quietly, "about that..."

"I've handled it," Xel'zex said, shrugging. "Lieutenant Malavai Quinn's body was promptly cremated inside the ship."

"What the frack is that supposed to mean?"

Xel'zex stood up, looming over the glaring Lieutenant Pierce. The cockpit seemed to darken under his gaze, but Pierce didn't back down.

"I burned a hole in a bulkhead with my lightsaber and shoved him into it," Xel'zex explained with a grim satisfaction.

"No less than the traitor deserved," Jaesa said darkly, though Vette was noticeably silent.

"Quinn was an Imperial soldier," Pierce shouted in the Sith Lord's face. "He was still working for the Empire! He saved all our lives more than once! And you murdered him because he sent your girl for a little spin? Is that what you're going to do with me, once I've outlived my usefulness?!"

Xel'zex punched Lieutenant Pierce in the face.

Any other human would probably have gone down in that moment, but all the punch did was make the Lieutenant mad. He roared and tackled Xel'zex, picking him up and slamming him against the opposite wall. The sith spun with the attack, and in moments the two had ended up in the main room, trading punches and slamming each other into whatever was available. The entire time, Pierce was yelling. Profanities, epithets, insults to Xel'zex and his family and Vette and the whole blasted Sith Empire.

Vette tried to follow, but she could barely walk, and she was forced to get Jaesa to help carry her out. By the time they got there, the main room was trashed; boxes had been thrown, a chair was bent double, the holoterminal was sparking, and Pierce was on top of Xel'zex, punching him repeatedly in the face.

Vette tried to call out to them, to say something that would get the two to stop before somebody was killed, but Jaesa silenced her, shutting Vette's mouth with some Force trick, and she could do nothing but watch.

Xel'zex threw Pierce off of him, and the brawl continued. Pierce was wearing his armour, but Xel'zex was larger than even the massive soldier. The fight was bloody. Finally, Pierce got a grip on Xel'zex's hair and slammed the Sith's head into a wall. Then he flipped the larger man over his shoulder and back onto the floor.

As Pierce's fist came down directly into Xel'zex's face, the Sith raised a hand and caught it. Pierce's fist moved no closer to Xel'zex's face.

The two men glared at each other.

Xel'zex's golden eyes burned bright, matched by Pierce's, if not in unnatural brightness, at least in emotion.

Still holding Pierce's fist, Xel'zex asked, "feeling better?"

Pierce pulled his fist back roughly and stood up.

Xel'zex stood, wiping gingerly at the gold filigree embedded in his face. His hand came away a few shades redder.

He flicked the blood away, still glaring at the soldier. "You're my friend, Pierce. I would never let what happened to Quinn happen to you. Now, come on," he said, waving a hand towards the ship's airlock, "there's not much left, but we can return it to the Empire, anyway."

Pierce's glare softened only a fraction, but he followed Xel'zex out of the room.

Vette and Jaesa watched them go. Two quiet, powerful men who'd looked about to kill each other moments ago.

As the doors hissed closed, Vette blurted out, "what was that? Was that supposed to be an apology?"

Jaesa shrugged. "No, not really. Lord Xel'zex doesn't regret what he did."

"Well, duh. Xel doesn't even know what that word means."

Jaesa shot a glare at Vette and considered dropping her. "No," she agreed eventually, "but he does care what the Lieutenant thinks of him."

"He didn't used to do that."

"No. No, he didn't."


	7. Chapter 7

13 ASC

"Hrngh."

"Ragh!"

Jaesa Willsaam was having a VERY good day.

She leaned against a bulkhead, watching Lieutenant Pierce and her "master" wrestling, shirtless, in the main hold of their ship. A satisfied little smile rested on her face. Naturally, she didn't even try to hide it. What healthy young woman wouldn't enjoy the sight of the rippling, sweaty muscles of her favourite Sith Lord?

She almost laughed as the Lieutenant started to gain the upper hand. Xel'zex was a prideful man, and had insisted on competing without the help of the Force. Of course, he was also vain, and wouldn't take being defeated with much dignity. Just one more example of the mess of contradictions that was the Emperor's Wrath.

Suddenly, Xel seemed to gain a surge of strength, slipping out of Pierce's grip and flipping the man over his back. It wasn't quite a victory, but it was quite a bit better than the sith had been doing up until…

Jaesa turned to see Vette standing on the other side of the hold's entryway.

Her least favourite member of the crew.

Lt. Pierce was a straightforward man, simple and open in his needs. Broonmark was vicious and bloodthirsty, and didn't understand the concept of hiding that fact. And Xel?

As Xel'zex flashed a grin at Vette through the strain of forcing Pierce back to the ground - earning a swift counterattack for his distraction - Jaesa smiled sadly.

Xel'zex was the most honest man she'd ever met. Capricious, vain, quick-tempered and violent, and unable to pretend to be anything different. He was perfect.

Vette, on the other hand, was generally kind, even altruistic, with a somewhat absurd, sarcastic sense of humour and an optimistic outlook in spite of her life. Jaesa all but hated her.

"Hey," Vette said, holding her arms up to her chest, "at least buy a girl dinner before you x-ray vision her."

That was exactly what Jaesa despised about Vette, the Jedi thought as she turned back to watch the competition, which had amped up when Vette entered the room. The façade. Always there, hiding Vette's discomfort and fear behind a veneer of humour and bravado. Vette was a liar, through and through, and that made her an example of everything that Jaesa hated in the galaxy.

Xel'zex had dealt with the last example of that sort of thing that had managed to sneak its way onto the ship. Then again, he'd done that for Vette.

Xel'zex was finally pinned, in spite of his efforts and inspiration. The venerable Lieutenant was far too simple a man to realize the danger of his display of prowess.

"Yeah," Vette yelled with calculated timing, "take it all off!"

The twi'lek had a handful of credits to wave around, and she threw them into the makeshift arena. Pierce scowled at the mockery, but Xel'zex burst out laughing. True to form, Vette had diverted Xel'zex's capricious ire with a perfectly timed distraction. The ex-slave had saved a great number of lives in that same way.

Today, however, there was one very special difference. When Xel'zex waved a massive hand, gathering up the fallen credits with the Force, and returned them to Vette, he didn't immediately get too close to her. She, in turn, didn't find the first pretext she could to escape.

She'd done that for months after Quinn's death. At first, Jaesa had thought it was fear. At first, it probably had been.

The Emperor's Wrath was not a man prone to subtlety, nor did he hide his intentions. Still, Jaesa's hope had been dashed the moment she pried into Xel's essence some weeks ago. He did not keep his distance because his interest in the twi'lek waned. No, after years of unwittingly, then explicitly acting towards the goal of possessing Vette, Xel'zex had finally learned something his aristocratic upbringing had never taught him: consideration.

And today, for the very first time, Vette _blushed_ looking into Xel's eyes. She played off her nervousness with a wry quip, just as she always did, but Jaesa didn't need the power to peer into a person's soul to see the truth: Vette was, finally, falling for Xel.

Jaesa tried to be happy for him, but she wasn't in the habit of hiding the truth, especially from herself. She hated Vette, more than she did Quinn or that witch, Kallig, or her own former master, Nomen Karr. And it wasn't because Vette was a liar.

Jaesa turned away to leave before she said something that would only make Xel'zex angry.

 _Breep… Breep… Breep…_

Jaesa paused and looked back.

Xel'zex walked over to his armoured robes and dug through the pockets. It took him a second, but he withdrew his holocomm with a satisfied smile.

"See about challenging Broonmark," he suggested lightly. "I've my own business to attend to."

"Maybe if you can convince him not to use his claws," Vette suggested to the soldier as Xel'zex turned and walked to his quarters.

Jaesa followed.

Xel'zex turned his head just before he entered his room. His comm kept ringing. Jaesa crossed her arms and gave the Sith a look she knew he understood. He scowled.

"This is a bad idea," he said. Then he gestured for her to follow him.

She closed the door behind him, and he finally answered the holocomm.

The figure of Darth Malgus managed to be imposing even as a tiny figure in Xel'zex's hand.

"Greetings, Lord Wrath."

"Darth Malgus," Xel'zex returned with a slight incline of his head.

Malgus' gaze shifted to take in Jaesa. "You are not alone," he noted.

"Jaesa Wilsaam," Xel'zex said, sweeping the comm around to take Jaesa in more fully. "A faithful traveling companion."

"A jedi." Malgus looked her up and down suspiciously.

Jaesa shrugged. "Of sorts."

"Her loyalty is unquestionable," Xel'zex said, bringing the comm back before him.

"Perhaps." Malgus hesitated only a moment, then barked, "I've little time; I will trust your judgment, Lord Wrath. Everything is ready, and you will need to hurry. The time has come."

Xel'zex inclined his head once more. "You do me honour by summoning me personally, Darth Malgus."

There were no further words or pleasantries exchanged. Malgus ended the call, and Xel'zex pocketed the device.

"We need to stop by Nar Shadaa," he said. "You will be taking the crew ashore while I meet with Malgus. We can rendezvous afterward."

Jaesa's eyes narrowed. She caught Xel'zex's eyes and held them. "You're keeping a secret," she accused.

Xel'zex only nodded. "What the crew doesn't know can't come back to bite them. Especially aliens and Jedi."

"I'm coming with you."

"No."

"You can't stop me."

"I can. Don't make me."

The two stared at each other, glaring. Jaesa stood a full head and a half shorter than Xel'zex, and craned her neck to meet his imperious gaze, but she met it with a stonelike steadfastness.

Xel'zex's hand went to his lightsaber, but Jaesa didn't move, either to pull back or to draw her own.

Finally, the Sith snarled, "this is my fight! My business-"

"You don't want me getting killed," Jaesa cut him off. "I'm no novice. And, as you said, my loyalty is unquestionable. This is our fight, whether you like it or not."

Xel'zex growled, then slammed a fist into the wall. A picture of the crew fell off the wall.

"Fine! But the rest of the crew goes to Nar Shadaa."

Jaesa grinned. "Good," she said. "Well, then, where does Malgus need us?"

Xel'zex walked to the door, hand resting on its entry panel.

"Ilum."

 **Author's Note**

 **That's the end of "A Man of His Word". That's not to say Xel'zex won't be back. In a few months, he'll be part of "Legacy: The False Emperor".**

 **Anybody who wants to see him and Jaesa - sadly, no Vette - before then, should check out "Nobody Knew Her Better", Chapter three.**

 **Anybody wishing to know more or offer opinions or suggestions, just leave a review or PM. I've noticed this particular story receives quite a lot more attention than any of my others. I'm curious about that, so if anybody would like to tell me why, I'd appreciate it.**


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